All wisdom begins in wonder, and this delight kindles a desire for truth that leads us on a quest for the really real -- the source of being itself. Hence, the philosophical impulse, albeit often manifested in atheistic and irreverent stumblings in the dark of human ignorance, begins and ultimately ends in theology -- communicating and communing with our origin and goal. We men are rational animals who seek to know. We are agents of truth who want correct answers to questions that we must ask. From the noblest objects of contemplation to the seemingly insignificant everyday trivialities of life, we attempt to unravel perplexing knots. Limited, blind, and distracted, we nevertheless struggle for wisdom. This is our lot, and it is also our glory.

Tuesday, August 18, A.D. 2009

Competing Images

I often wonder how educated, intelligent people so often forget what they already know. For example, how is it that people frequently forget (or suppress) memories and information that would serve as counter-examples to theories that they produce to explain phenomena? This is very obvious in political discussion, where a certain form of hypocrisy is men’s standard behavior.

This morning, I thought about how certain lessons are so strong, they are unlikely to be forgetten, conveniently or otherwise. In this, Hume may have had some insight, though I find his epistemology untenable. For he makes much of the power of vivid impressions in the mind.

Vivacity comes in various ways. Repetition, intense emotion experienced, and perhaps even the profundity of the idea itself may lead to the vivacity of a certain idea or a set of ideas. In addition, certain powerful images make their presence felt—or known—in the mind, though maybe the power of the image depends on its similarity to things repeatedly experienced, on its ability to induce emotion, and on its ability to open the mind’s eye.

I have found the images of Plato’s dialogues to be such powerful images. Though I may be convinced by Socrates’ arguments or the dialogues’ “meta-arguments,” such lessons learnt might not so readily surface to my conscious attention when I encounter other competing images. For example, I might believe that reason should rule the appetites, but it is easy to forget such a belief when I confront the desires of others and my own. Yet, the image in the Republic where the tiny man attempts to control the many-headed beast recalls my attention to the lesson. Feeding a monstrous head only causes it to grow more powerful—and hungrier. When I encounter the appetites’ mutinies, I think of this grotesque image.

Indeed, Plato’s images seem to be remarkably vivid; Socrates was truly a lover of images. Yet, these images assist us in knowing the truth. They also remind us of wisdom gained when such is most necessary.

It is ironic that the dialogues warn us about image-thinking yet provide us with such helpful images by which our lazy and earthy minds may guard themselves against falsehood. Just like Aristotle’s insistence on habit, supposedly lowly images play an important role in living the good life. It is thus important which images we learn. I recommend Plato’s dialogues and the parables of Christ. Sadly, many people in our culture fill their minds only with popular culture. Do you trust Hollywood to craft such signposts to truth?

Retortion (also spelled ‘retorsion’) is the philosophical procedure whereby one seeks to establish a thesis by uncovering a performative inconsistency in anyone (any actual or possible rational agent) who attempts to deny it. Proofs by retortion have the following form:

Proposition p is such that anyone who denies it falls into performative inconsistency; ergo, p is true.

If we agree that a proposition is ineluctable just in case it cannot be denied by anyone without performative inconsistency, then the retorsive proof-strategy can be summed up in the conditional:

If a proposition is ineluctable, then it is true.

A performative inconsistency is not a logical contradiction but rather an inconsistency for the speaker of the statement. “There are no truths” as a proposition is not logically inconsistent, but no one may utter it without refuting himself. For such a person claims that “There are no truths” is a truth by asserting it, and thus he contradicts himself.

If I understand Vallicella correctly, he holds that the retortion argument only establishes what we as thinkers must think. We must hold that there are truths and that the world is intelligible because that is the nature of human thought. Vallicella calls such insight merely transcendental. He resists, however, allowing the retortion to have any metaphysical utility. Following Kant, Vallicella distinguishes between the rules of reason and the verity of being itself.

The project of understanding cannot proceed except on the presupposition that being is intelligible. And the search for truth cannot proceed except on the presupposition that there are truths to be discovered. But these may be mere transcendental presuppositions without which we cannot think and inquire. How can we be sure that the transcendental conditions of thought and inquiry are also conditions of what is real an sich? I trust everyone will see that one cannot simply assume a coincidence of the transcendental and the metaphysical (ontological). For that would be a piece of dogmatism when dogmatism is precisely what the use of retorsion is supposed to avoid.

My tentative conclusion is that retorsion seems impotent to provide us with the rigorous grounding we seek. Retorsion presupposes for its validity the coincidence of Thinking and Being, a coincidence which it cannot therefore justify.

I suppose that I am hopelessly retrograde in my Parmenidean paradigm and Platonic dogmatism, but it seems that we must assume a “coincidence” or rather a natural fit between our intellective faculties and the world that is intelligible. All human thought rests on that assumption’s being true, and we have no other recourse. Obviously, we do not have a divine perspective of reality. Any thoughtful person is keenly aware of his limits and ignorance. Yet, the only alternative to Kant’s transcendental transgression is the temptation of nihilism. Given these two choices, I’ll throw my lot with Plato and Aristotle any day.

Perhaps, I misunderstand Vallicella and, with him, all of Kant’s supporters. I just do not get what they hope to salvage of human knowledge unless we grant that being is intelligible. To my limited and naive mind, it seems as fundamental to philosophical principles as that of non-contradiction. Without it, cognition cannot proceed. Without it, we necessarily refute ourselves and incur performative inconsistency. Without it, nothing makes sense, and nothing is—at least, for us. Such seem to be sufficient reasons for our acceptance of old Parmenides’ insight. Naturally, we must remember that we are not God. Yet, was that truly a worry?

Perhaps in response to Eric Holder’s plea, independent filmmaker Craig Bodeker has created a short documentary titled A Conversation about Race. In it, Bodeker explores what he calls “disconnects” in Americans’ treatment of race.